Her Guardian
by MuffinLove03
Summary: Change isn't always good. Helga's fallen into a depression and needs someone to keep her from continuing her downward spiral. My first one-shot! Rated for some intense themes.


**[A/N: Decided to do a one-shot in a moment of inspiration! It's a little intense!]**

It's funny how things change in life. The leaves in autumn turn to various shades of yellow, red, and orange. Trees, buildings, streets, sculptures: everything weathers when exposed to the elements. People change, some for the better while some for worse. Thoughts, feelings, dreams, hopes, emotions… they can all turn on their head or completely disappear in a matter of minutes, hours, days, or years.

Helga's life had done just that. At sixteen she found herself a lot more independent than she wanted to be. With Big Bob and Miriam she'd had no choice but to grow up fast. Olga had a life. Somewhere on the other side of the country, Olga was living happily with a new husband, Bill, and a baby on the way. Meanwhile, Helga was stuck in Hillwood with her parents.

Things had gotten a lot worse since she was a kid. Over the years, Miriam's drinking problem had intensified and there had been multiple occasions that she'd been rushed to the hospital. Big Bob wasn't very supportive since his new electronics emporium had really taken off. As beepers faded out of the realm of popularity, a business associate had recommended he change his business. Another change.

He still never really noticed Helga. He spent very long hours at work and when he'd finally come home, he would seclude himself in the office he'd designated for himself. Sometimes he came home smelling of lavender and a few times Helga had seen him walking around the city with a petite brunette that resembled one of the women who worked at his store. Miriam didn't know about that, of course. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was why she drank more. Helga didn't bother to ask.

There were some problems between her parents that she didn't want to get involved with and this was one of them. Her mom had always had a drinking problem, as far back as she could remember, and the fact that it'd gotten worse seemed to be a logical progression.

Without Big Bob around, Helga was left to take care of her mom on her own. Some nights she'd find her mother passed out on the couch, a pool of vomit on the carpet by her head. Retching from the smell, Helga would lean down and listen for the sound of breathing, or place two fingers on Miriam's wrist to check for a pulse. How was she supposed to deal with all of this? Why hadn't Miriam left her father? Why didn't Big Bob just move out if he wanted to be with some other woman? How did all of this start? How did it escalate to this? Helga asked herself these questions on a regular basis but they went unanswered as there was no one around who could provide an explanation.

At night when Big Bob would finally come home, sometimes he didn't even acknowledge Miriam, if she was even conscious. When she wasn't passed out, she spent most of her time lying on the living room couch watching soap operas with a cocktail glass in her hand. By morning, Helga would come downstairs, check her mother for signs of life and the daily cycle would start all over again.

At school, Helga felt even more alone. She'd spent so much time shutting everyone out, especially in recent years, that most days she wandered the halls alone. She was embarrassed by her family and wouldn't dare let anyone come to her house to possibly see her mother falling over herself. Or see Helga roll her mother onto her side after she passed out to make sure she wouldn't choke on her own vomit.

Helga couldn't stand the idea of letting anyone into her secret world. She harbored secrets about her life that would humiliate her if anyone knew how she lived day to day. Her self-esteem had taken a major downfall in recent years. With Miriam rendered incapacitated and her father completely indifferent to his family at home, she slowly found herself becoming more and more angry and anguished with every passing day. Her father still only cared about Olga so when he was actually around, that's all Helga heard about. _Olga's doing this, Bill's like a son to me, I'm gonna spoil that little gal once she's born. _

When he did pay any attention to Helga, Big Bob could only offer criticism. He'd complain that Helga hadn't cleaned up after her mother or that she was nothing like Olga. _If Olga was here instead of you, this house wouldn't be such a wreck!_ Or worse yet, _If Olga was here, your mother wouldn't be so depressed._

Helga won a couple writing awards in high school after submitting her poetry to the literary arts magazine. Pretty proud of herself, she'd brought them home to show Big Bob. To show him she _could_ be a winner. However, he'd just brushed her off in favor of more _important_ things.

Phoebe was dating Gerald now and they spent almost all of their time together. They really had always been the perfect couple. Once Gerald finally asked her out, Phoebe didn't really see Helga so much anymore. It wasn't an intentional neglect; she was caught up in love. Phoebe made references to hanging out whenever she saw Helga in the halls at school. However, nothing was ever planned so Helga stopped trying. She still talked to Phoebe here and there but as they'd grown apart, she didn't feel comfortable divulging the details of her home life, or of her private thoughts.

And then there was Arnold. Helga never spoke of her feelings for him again after they saved the neighborhood. They went back to their love-hate friendship and it was as if that moment never happened. But Helga knew what happened. She'd been rejected. And though she wished…prayed… that she could forget about Arnold and move on, every time she tried she felt like her heart was crumbling and glass shards were piercing her chest.

With every new day, Helga woke up finding herself more and more depressed. Why did this have to be _her_ life? Why couldn't someone notice her? Care about her? The neglect and loneliness in her heart had overflowed and manifested itself in dark thoughts. _I'm not pretty enough for anyone to ever love me. It's obvious I'm not worth caring about. Maybe I'm not worth anything. Even my parents never really took an interest in me so what does that say? And everyone at school hates me for the way I've treated them all these years. I just don't want to get hurt… _

Helga hated herself for the way she'd treated people all her life. Anytime she felt herself opening up to another person, she shut down and insulted them which inevitably drove people away. No one wanted to be around someone like that and she couldn't blame them. She'd look at herself in the mirror with disgust and frustration. Why couldn't she be like other people? Why couldn't she be anyone _but _Helga?

Things had really taken a turn for the worse when she started to experiment with cutting. It started off slow, just little scratches that burned more than they hurt. But with every new cut, she'd grown bolder and bolder, moving a little quicker, going a little deeper. Every tear she allowed to escape fueled the fire and she cursed herself for showing weakness, even if she was alone. She chastised herself for every flaw, every wrong word or move she'd made. She'd tell herself over and over again how worthless she was. That's how she felt all her life and after feeling the implication for so long, she couldn't help but internalize the idea.

When she wasn't at home, no one could tell anything was different. She was still the same aggressive and hostile Helga G. Pataki that she'd always been. No one really seemed to notice her sitting by herself at lunch or the melancholic expression on her face as she'd fall into a trance in class. She couldn't stand herself. She couldn't stand the person she'd become and how everyone perceived her. But at the same time, she couldn't stand the idea of anyone seeing her vulnerability. That was the one thing to which she clung.

. . . . . . . .

It was springtime in Hillwood City. Arnold was walking down the street carrying two large bags of groceries, daydreaming about the way he wanted to spend his summer break. It was mid-April and the air was slowly getting warmer. He fantasized about a trip to the beach, feeling the sand between his toes and the cool waves engulfing his feet as he waded in.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he turned a corner and ran into Helga.

An orange rolled out into the street as Arnold shook his head from the impact. How many times had he run into her like this? This never happened with anyone but Helga, ever since they were kids.

He looked at the girl in front of him. She was shaken by the collision but obviously fine. He really liked the way she wore her hair these days. Instead of pigtails she'd started wearing it down, parted to one side with waves gently cascading over her shoulders. Her dark eyeliner and mascara made her ocean blue eyes pop, almost hypnotizing him. Puberty had treated her well and he couldn't help but feel attracted to her, though he wouldn't admit it. Even if she was really pretty, she was still really mean.

In a way he missed the old Helga. She'd always been volatile but she still showed that soft side of hers once in a while. He really liked that and he wished she'd act like that more often. But for some reason, over the years, she'd started to withdraw from their friends. She didn't interact with anyone unless it was to be nasty and her insults had become increasingly biting, though not toward him. Still, he couldn't help but reminisce about the old Helga and the pseudo-friendship they'd had. He often wondered if she still had feelings for him. He'd never gotten up the courage to confront her about her confession when they were nine and he couldn't help but regret his cowardice. But now it felt too late. She probably didn't have those feelings anymore so it would be embarrassing to bring it up.

"Do you _ever_ pay attention to where you're going, Football-head?" Helga huffed as she stood up, straightening her dark blue long-sleeve shirt and readjusting her jeans.

Arnold sighed with frustration. It was always _his_ fault, wasn't it? "Sorry Helga,"

For a second he thought he saw her face soften but he put the thought out of his mind as Helga walked away. He was putting the groceries back into the bags when he noticed a folded up piece of paper. He looked back in Helga's direction but she was gone. _She must have dropped this._

Tentatively, he unfolded the loose-leaf while making sure Helga hadn't turned around. If she caught him reading her stuff, he knew she'd have a conniption.

Arnold scooted back against the brick building, haphazardly pulling his bags and stray food items away from the middle of the sidewalk.

His eyes grew wide and he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach as he read.

_It's something that makes you lose your breath,  
as if you're strangled, plummeting to your death.  
Fangs caught deep from the inside out,  
while the people around you can't figure you out._

_Slavemaster with a whip and he's breaking your back,  
try to get up but he's ready to attack.  
Breaking your bones, while you cry and moan,  
until you finally realize that you're all alone._

_Blood curdling at the core of your vein,  
when you realize any effort at escape would be in vain.  
When you realize you're the one to blame,  
you realize, and you're put to shame._

_Who's to say where the whip last slashed,  
when your heart fell silent and your emotions clashed.  
When you lost view of what's wrong and what's right,  
and the line dividing reality blurred out of sight._

_You scream inside at the sight of your face,  
you fall back and choke on your own disgrace.  
Feeling so out of place,  
feeling like you've lost the chase,  
when victory, you could almost taste._

_Dried blood under your nails, vomit on your shirt,  
you try to overcome it but you know it never works.  
Something inside tearing you apart,  
piece by piece, a sadistic work of art._

. . . . . . . .

Evening came and Arnold sat at his desk doing homework, unable to get Helga off of his mind. He'd read the poem over and over since he'd found it and couldn't help but feel anxious. He was worried about her.

_You don't write something like that if everything's okay…_

Feeling galvanized, he folded up the note and stuck it in his pocket. He needed to talk to her.

. . . . . . . .

No one was answering the door at the Pataki household and it'd been almost ten minutes since Arnold first knocked. Feeling a little impatient, he checked to see if the door was locked. When the knob made a full turn, he cautiously pushed inside, peering through the doorway to see if anyone was around.

He looked around the corner in the kitchen and saw Miriam slumped over the counter, passed out. He'd seen her like that plenty of times before and the low gurgling sound she was making in her sleep was just as familiar.

_Is Helga even home? Oh man, she's gonna kill me if she catches me wandering her house. What am I even _doing_ here?_

Suddenly Arnold heard something upstairs and he quickly scaled the staircase. The faint sound of someone crying could be heard from behind the bathroom door.

Fueled by adrenaline, Arnold slowly approached the door, still afraid to let his presence be known.

Outside the door, he recognized a voice. It was Helga and she was crying.

Taking a breath, he spoke. "Helga…?" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Are you… are you okay?"

Helga was startled and Arnold heard something fall to the floor. "Arnold! What the _hell_ are you doing in my house?" she snarled.

_Oh boy. Why _am_ I here? This was such a bad idea. She's probably fine…but why's she crying?_

"Umm... your door was open. I just… are you okay? What's going on in there?"

"Just go _away_, would ya?" An involuntary sob escaped her and Arnold frowned.

"Helga I found…" he paused. "I found a note that I think you wrote… it's a poem and I've gotta be honest it's got me kind of worried about you. Please tell me you're okay?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone," her voice was weak, somber.

Arnold wasn't convinced. He was quiet for a minute, listening for sounds that would indicate what was going on in the bathroom. All he could hear was the sound of Helga softly crying. Even that was enough to disturb him, coming from Helga of all people.

"Helga, would you please let me in?" he asked gently.

Sniffling, she responded in deep breaths. "You're _still_ here?" A pause. "Can't you take a hint? _Criminy_…"

The longer she was in there, the more Arnold worried. Something was very wrong and he needed to figure it out. Even though they had barely spoken in years, he still cared about Helga. He couldn't leave her crying in a bathroom.

He looked around the hallway, hoping to find a key or _something_ to unlock the bathroom door. On a tiny hook behind the door frame, he noticed a small gold key. He reached up, pulling the key from its resting place and did his best to quietly unlock the door, fearing what he'd find on the other side.

Helga gasped and her eyes looked petrified when Arnold came through the door. Arnold looked down at her, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathtub with a small box-cutter blade in her hand. His heart sank and his eyes grew wide. He felt nauseous at the sight of four evenly spaced incisions on the inside of her forearm, dripping with blood.

"Oh my god, Helga!" he quickly knelt down beside her, looking around frantically and trying to figure out what to do. "What the _hell_ did you do?"

Helga's face struggled to maintain its scowl but it quickly crumpled and more tears began to flood her eyes. She couldn't look at him, she was mortified.

Arnold pulled Helga to her feet and turned on the faucet, running her arm under the cool water. She yelped at the sensation. He quickly turned the water off and wrapped a hand towel around her wrist, covering the cuts and applying pressure.

Catching his breath, Arnold sat back down on the floor with her. "Helga…" his voice was soft now. "How... Why? I don't understand,"

"You _wouldn't_ understand," Helga tried to pull from him but he was holding her arm secure. She turned her head away.

With his free hand he gently turned her chin back in his direction. "Helga, please…"

She felt weak and exposed. Of all people to see her at her most vulnerable, it had to be him. But he was unrelenting.

"There's so much you don't know about me…" Helga's voice was a whisper as she choked back a sob. "Look, I'll spare you the details, okay? If you haven't noticed, and I'm sure you probably haven't 'cause no one ever does, I don't exactly have the greatest family life…"

"Helga, that's no reason to hurt yourself like this! I never thought you'd—"

"How could you think _anything_ about me, Arnold? It's not like we talk, ya know…" she paused again. "I don't even know why you're here in the first place…"

"I found a poem you wrote," Arnold pulled the note out of his pocket. "It had me really worried about you so I wanted to come check and make sure you were alright…" his voice faded as he stole a glance back down at her arm. A small stain was forming on the cloth where some blood had soaked through.

"Why bother?"

Arnold couldn't believe the way Helga was talking. "Are you kidding? Because I care about you, Helga,"

Arnold felt overwhelmed. He'd always considered Helga a close friend even if they didn't talk to each other anymore. Now he started to regret all of the times he thought about contacting her but didn't. She'd always held a special place in his heart and though he hadn't been ready for such an intense relationship when he first learned of her feelings for him, he had still contemplated his own feelings for her over the past few years. He just didn't think she felt the same way anymore, given how much time had passed. So he'd done his best to move on as well.

"You _stupid_ Football-head! Don't you get it? I'm not worth the trouble. I'm so _frustrated_ with _everything_," she clenched her fists. "Do you know what it's like to feel like no one in your family cares about you? Do you know what it's like to go your whole life without being noticed? Or feeling like everyone would be better off if you weren't around? How about _this_; do you know what it's like to have a father who's barely home because he's sleeping with some slutty skirt at work but when he _is_ home, he blames _everything_ on you and treats you like crap? Like you don't even matter?"

Helga was fighting back more tears as she continued her rant but she'd lost the power to hold back. She'd been crying for so long that every tear that rolled down felt like it was burning her face. Arnold looked at her. He thought she was beautiful and his heart felt heavy seeing her face puffy and red, glistening with fresh tears.

"Arnold, do you _know_ what it's like to have to clean up your own mother's vomit because she was too drunk to make it to the toilet? Or to put your hand over her heart, desperately searching for a heartbeat just to make sure she's still _alive? _Do you know what it's like to care about someone so deeply, _wishing _they felt the same way about you?"

"Yeah…" Arnold's voice was quiet. "I care about you, Helga. You just have no idea, do you?"

Arnold checked her arm to see if it was still bleeding. Letting her go, he stood back up and ran a fresh washcloth under the faucet, grabbing the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet. He returned to the floor with her, gently wiping away the dried blood.

Helga watched as he gingerly rubbed a dab of antibiotic ointment over her wounds before carefully wrapping her arm in gauze, securing it with medical tape.

Arnold sat back against the tub and sighed. Helga was quiet. She'd stopped crying but sniffled, desperately needing to blow her nose.

Without a word, Arnold leaned forward and pulled some toilet paper off of the roll, handing it to her.

Helga blew her nose, taking a deep breath as she finally started to calm down.

"Helga, you have no idea how scared I was when I saw you like that… in here…" Arnold wrung his hands together, staring at the bathroom floor intently. "You… you really mean a lot to me and I… I don't want to lose you…"

Helga fidgeted with the used tissue in her hand. "I wasn't trying to kill myself, Arnold…"

"It doesn't matter! Do you realize how dangerous that was? What if you hit the wrong spot? You could've bled out! What if I hadn't come?" Arnold's voice cracked again.

Helga breathed in deeply. She was still embarrassed but Arnold wasn't reacting the way she'd expected. He was actually worried about her. Someone actually cared…

"Helga, please… please promise me you won't do that again,"

She avoided his gaze, still fidgeting.

"Do you still see Dr. Bliss?"

"No," Helga spoke up. "Big Bob threw a fit about how embarrassing it was to have a daughter in therapy…"

"Helga, you need to see her. Please, you don't deserve to feel this way. I know you're a great person underneath it all and your dad is a jerk for letting things get this bad… maybe she can help with your mom, too?"

Helga was quiet for a while. Arnold just watched her. He could tell she felt embarrassed and scared. But he knew this wasn't the real Helga. The Helga he knew was an amazing girl with a fiercely independent personality and when she was being nice, someone he thought he could fall for. Now wasn't the time to bring those thoughts up, however.

Finally, she spoke. "Okay," she whispered before turning her head to look at him. "I'll call her."

Arnold's eyes watered with relief as he pulled Helga into his arms, burying his head against hers and nuzzling into her hair. He felt her take a few deep breaths, shuddering a little as she exhaled.

Leaning back, he made eye contact with her. Her face underneath her eyes was wet with a few fresh tears. He gently wiped them away with his thumbs, smiling at her as she tentatively smiled back. He could get lost looking into her deep blue eyes.

Pulling her close to him again, he let Helga rest her head on his shoulder. He slowly ran his hand through her hair and rubbed her back before tightening his embrace. He would sit there on the bathroom floor with her all night if that's what she needed. His heart was melting for her and all he wanted to do was protect her. From anything or anyone who would ever think to hurt her again. Including herself.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly. "You're gonna be okay."


End file.
